


latitudinarian

by orphan_account



Category: The L Word
Genre: F/F, Post Season Six
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-05 09:02:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10303049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Shane knocks on Molly's door at half past three in the morning.





	

She knocks on her door at half past three in the morning and if it hadn't been for the exact combination of her hair, more of a mess than she had ever remembered it being, which spoke volumes, and her red-rimmed eyes, well, Molly might still not have let her in because she has to get up early for a very important meeting at her internship dammit, she does not have the  _luxury_ for a post midnight chat with her ex, when she hears it.

_Jenny's dead?_

Her arms are around her before she can even finish the thought. She feels Shane's breath against her neck as a word she might begin to form catches in her throat.

Molly's head is spinning, so she closes the door and leads them towards the couch, though she has the hazy suspicion it is more for her own benefit rather than Shane's. It all seems so far away. Is she still dreaming?

It all comes pouring out of her, Bette and Tina's farewell party, Alice's treatment, the Lez Girls negatives, Dylan's scheme, Niki's auction. 

Shane buries her face in her hands, nimble fingers ripping at the roots of her hair, but she does not cry. Her voice is raspy when she speaks again.

_The last thing I wanted to say to her before Alice found her in the pool was to go fuck herself._

_What?_

Shane isn't listening.  _The police think it was suicide. Apparently the interrogation tapes were fucking useless._

Molly's voice is no more than a whisper.  _She drowned herself?_

_Just in time for her farewell video to end._

She can see the fury in Shane, the feeling of betrayal and grief and guilt so deep-rooted it must result from a momentary hatred. 

_She hid the letter._

Oh.

Molly can still picture the confusion on Shane's face when they last spoke; still, she supposed she could have played dumb, running away from her problems and the consequences of her actions out of habit. Not now. Not even over her dead body would she abuse any friend dead or alive like this. 

_Look, I didn't even mean to barge in on you like this. I am not trying to convince you that I'm some sort of fucking saint. You know I'm not. I just wanted to tell you._

_Did you hook up with Niki Stevens?_

_Yeah._ A pause, but she isn't sure if the regret in her voice is from the action itself, or not having done it earlier.  _Why?_

_Jenny told me you were with her when I came by your house with the jacket. That you had started around the Pink Ride._

A violent shake of the head.  _No. No._

_So when?_

She licks her lips, the gesture swift enough to probably not consciously register.  _The Lez Girls party. And after that._

Molly nods. The relief washing through her makes her feel as if she had just showered for the first time in ages.

She's getting up from the couch, her back to Molly and she blurts,  _Where are you staying tonight? You're not going back to that house, are you? That would be fucked up._

Jenny's ghost was likely going to haunt her wherever she went. Being trapped in the room next to hers, in line of sight of her books and clothes, it seems nothing short of masochism.

_Alice is letting me crash on her couch._

_That's good._

_Yeah._

Shane's hand is on the door handle.

_You weren't selfless._

_What?_

_I used to think you broke up with me to protect me from yourself, or whatever. But that's bullshit. You were just looking for an excuse to leave instead of working on your issues._

When Shane turns around her voice is sharp with an edge meant to maim.  _Molly, I'm sorry, I fucked up, but the only thing keeping me on my feet right now are three cups of coffee and the thought that my ex-girlfriend killed herself less than a hundred feet away from me. So I am not doing this with you._

The door slams shut, shutting her out and Molly is sobbing.

* * *

She wakes up from her mother's voice.

_Molly, what are you doing sleeping on the sofa? You're going to be late for your internship._

Her skull feels like it is being split in half by an axe and she can feel the soreness of her throat before she even utters a word. She figures the skin around her eyes must be made up of red blotches.

_I'll get up in a minute._

_Have you been crying? What's going on?_

She buries her face in the nearby pillow. She's an awful human being, but other than that, she is just peachy.

_Nothing. I need to get ready._

She avoids her mother except to grab a cup of coffee that is offered to her. She is halfway to her destination when she takes the exit off the interstate.

The Planet is in a lull, so she is able to pick out Kit behind the counter as soon as she enters. 

_Hey, Kit. Could you get me a latte?_

She orders out of politeness more than anything, not exactly in need of even more caffeine to get her riled up, giving herself more time to keep her voice from shaking. 

_Molly! Sure, babygirl, wait a second._

As real as the shop owner's good mood seems to be as a reaction to seeing a familiar face, the rings under her eyes speak volumes.

Molly lowers her voice.  _I heard about Jenny. I am... so sorry._

Kit sighs.  _Me, too. It was just so sudden. We all knew she had problems and a messed up life, but- how come you know, anyway?_

She takes a big gulp of air, but her voice still isn't as steady as she'd like.  _Shane came by my mother's house yesterday. Have you, maybe- Do you know where she is? I, I said some things that I need to apologize for._

_I'm sorry, I haven't seen her. I think she said something about going over to her photography studio._

_Her what? Where is it?_

She slaps a five dollar bill on the counter and snatches her latte from Kit's hands before the cup even touches the counter. The heat is an annoyance and her palm soon to be swollen, but in her hurry, she just has sufficient patience to check her watch, voice her gratefulness and punch in the address into her GPS.

It takes her longer to find a parking space than she would have liked, so she settles for a patch of sidewalk she knows is not made for this purpose and hopes for the best. The fairly early hour should help her luck along, and anyhow, she doesn't mean to linger too much, going off the presumption that she's even going to run into Shane.

The studio is open, so she enters, all the while taking it in. It is a fairly large space, but then again, she supposes Jenny had been pretty damn rich for a while there.

_Molly?_

She jumps, before smoothing down her hair and turning to look at her. Dressed in ratty jeans and a white tank top, her hair dancing on the edge between unbrushed and immaculately styled, she's seen her like this in the mornings minutes after getting out of bed.

_Hi, Shane._

_What are you doing here?_

_I was a bitch. I was the selfish one, going on about myself with Jenny- I am so sorry._

_Look, it's been a wild night, okay? Forget about it._

Molly sees her fiddling with something. A camera. 

Despite herself, she smirks.  _You made any money with your photographs yet?_

Shane looks up at her, wariness radiating off her narrowed eyes in waves.  _No. Jenny actually used this studio more than I've gotten to._

She feels awkward and insensitive, simply by standing there and taking up space near her.  _Are you going to sell this place?_

_Why would I? It was a gift._

_Memories, I guess._

She looks at her feet, at the object in her hands.  _Yeah._

Molly opens her mouth, uncertain what exactly is going to exit it, when-

_Hey, whoever drives this fucking car, get it away from this driveway! I am going to call the police!_

She groans.  _Ah, shit. I have to go._

To her surprise, Shane laughs. It's a warm, comforting sound.  _I figured._

So she sprints out of the door and drives away as fast as possible so the man's screams are drowned in the roaring of her engine. Molly notices the latte cup then, the coffee cold when she sips at it. She doesn't mind.

The screen of her phone shows her ten missed calls from her boss, a concerned text message from her girlfriend and a strongly worded e-mail from her mother.

She flips through a newspaper at random during a lunch break she cuts short, seeing as she had arrived at her internship beyond late, but enough to read the article announcing the tragic, untimely death of the acclaimed author of  _Lez Girls, These Unlikely Happenings_ and the bestselling debut novel  _Some Of Her Parts._ Drowning, with the possibility of an overdose on pharmaceuticals as a factor. Speculations of suicide.

* * *

Several weeks down the line, the incident of the missed day at the internship has been glossed over save for a few lingering glares from colleagues who had to work double to pick up after her. Molly waits for snotty remarks that never come, which partly makes her mad since she is robbed of the opportunity to deliver any of the awesome one-liners she has prepared in her head as a snarky response.

Much as she loves her work, though, the weekend can't come fast enough.

She meets her girlfriend for lunch, picks up her dry-cleaning on the way home and almost misses her mother's remark during dinner about the funeral.

_Wait, you're not going to Jenny's funeral?_

She doesn't seem particularly concerned.  _It's not a good time. I have a wedding to plan! I was never friends with the girl. It's a shame, of course, but I am surprised you care. You were never close._

Molly wrestles to find the words to explain.  _Maybe not, but I still talked to her. It's just kind of fucked up._

_Well, you should do whatever you want._

Once the sight of the ceiling greets her, lying on her bed, she reaches for her phone and types quickly enough not to second-guess herself. Then, she shuts the device off and spends the next three to five hours buried under and between books.

She goes out shopping alone and returns with a simple black dress.

She lurks at the edges of the funeral, never having known that Jenny had been Jewish. Then again, it's an incredibly silly thought, because when would that have ever come up in casual conversation?

Going by undetected is her modus operandi until Tina walks up to her dressed in an elegant black suit and it is too late to pretend she hasn't been casting glances at the group.

_Molly. Is your mother with you?_

She fishes in her brain for a believable excuse before deciding, to hell with that, she isn't going to bullshit her way through this wake.

_No. She is caught up in her wedding plans and never really knew Jenny, anyway._

A mocking smile grasps at Tina's mouth.  _I bet, with Joyce as the bride-to-be._

She doesn't know how to respond to that.

The blonde looks over her shoulder, watching Shane talking to Alice for a second before turning back around.  _Do you-_

_No, I- I need to go. I just wanted to. Pay my respects._

Tina nods.

_Are you and Bette going to move to New York?_

The movie executive is startled for a moment, but it doesn't take her long to regain her composure.  _Well, yes, we do plan on it. But this was obviously too important._

She smiles.  _I wish you the best._

For a moment she thinks Tina will hug her.  _Thank you._

Molly watches as the other woman rejoins her friends and herself hails a cab home before the maudlin mood avails her to walk over to the people she had gotten to know at the Pink Ride over s'mores and drinking games.

* * *

They meet for coffee, though not at the Planet. That would have been weird.

Molly awkwardly wraps her hands around her tea cup while she gets her beloved espresso shot. A double, because chances are the coffee isn't strong enough as is.

_So, how are you doing?_

A breathy laugh.  _I'm okay. Surprised that you wanted to do this._

_I surprised myself, kind of._

_Tell me what's going on with you. Are you still doing that internship?_

_Yeah, it's actually pretty cool. You still doing movie stars' hair in between photoshoots?_

Shane nods.  _From time to time._

A silence stretches for a while, not quite uncomfortable in nature. The next words form on her tongue with unexpected ease.

_I've been seeing someone._

Shane raises an eyebrow.  _A female someone?_

She sounds like she is trying to stifle a chuckle and Molly can't blaim her. She supposes that makes her her unwilling teacher into the gay world that she had never wanted to be, after all.

_Yes._

Shane grins and it lights up her entire face. Molly sips at her tea quickly enough to almost choke.

_Good. I'm happy for you. What did you mother have to say to that?_

She stares into her tea cup for a moment, gathering her thoughts.  _I wouldn't have cared if she had disapproved, not after the shit she pulled. I told her she had no right to sabotage and mess with my relationship._

Shane grimaces and Molly thinks, not for the first time, that her mother had been in no fucking position to judge someone she knew more of from heresay than personal experience. She quickly goes on,

_My mother loves her, if you can believe it. But it's not going to work out._

She had been regarding her fingernails, but now her head snaps back up so fast she has her worried about the possibility of whiplash.  _Why?_

_She's got this amazing job offer in Miami. She swears we'll keep in touch, Skype and whatnot, but I just think we're very different people and this was just a matter of time._

It's the truth. She really likes her, still has her number saved in her phone, still feels her heart beat just a bit faster whenever she sees a message. That doesn't change anything in the long haul, though, and maybe a twisted part of her enjoys to see something crumble that has her mother's express support.

_Well, I'm sorry._

Molly had forgotten just how honest and expressive Shane's eyes are and she is left staring at the much less inflammatory table again.

_It's not your fault. It's not even hers._

_Do I know her? What's her name?_

She bites her lip.  _I doubt it. And-_

The last mouthful of her tea is cold and all kinds of gross at this point, but it occupies her otherwise.

When she looks up again, one corner of Shane's mouth is turned upwards in a bitter smirk. 

_And if I did, that would mean I fucked her?_

Molly shrugs, not entirely sure what has her so afraid to verify her question. She sees right through her.

_If you don't want to tell me, that's cool, but if it really bothers you, you could always check OurChart._

_It doesn't matter._

And there is no logical explanation as to why it should, either. She combs through her hair with her fingers.

_Look, we're all getting together at Hit tonight, just for a few drinks. You could come hang out if you want._

She turns it over in her mind. 

_Maybe._

Shane bows her head slightly.  _Okay._

And she does end up at the bar with one shot of tequila trailing its way down her throat and another in front of her a few hours later. That one burns on her tongue as she scrolls through her last conversation with, well, she supposes they are now officially ex-girlfriends. 

The loud beat of the music and the snippets of conversation she overhears around her keep her distracted from feeling much sadness. It hadn't exactly come as a shock to either of them. It had been simple timing, the wrong kind.

She feels a warm hand on her shoulder and recognizes her immediately.

_Bette!_

_Come sit with us. Shane said she invited you? I didn't know you guys had started talking again._

Molly lets herself be led through the crowd.  _Um, yeah, we had coffee earlier today._

The art gallery owner smiles.  _It's great to see that you still get along._

There is a wistfulness about her when she says it that makes her suspect Jodi is on her mind and how she wishes they could have ended on a better note.

They arrive at a very elegant lounge, empty glasses already strewn about the tables.

 _Oh, you found her! Hey, Molly._ Tasha calls out, her arm loosely draped around Alice's shoulder.

Tina asks if anyone wants any drinks and takes Molly's order first, smiling before she makes her way to the bar.

Shane grins when she sits down next to her. Molly ascribes the flush on her own cheeks to the lack of oxygen in the club and downs half her drink in one go as soon as Tina returns to settle back with her head nestled against Bette's shoulder.

Conversation flows easy enough - Tasha's excitement about her recruitment at the police force as well as Alice's empathic cheerleading is palpable and heartwarming, Tina's accomplishment still leaves everyone in awe, Bette is ecstatic to dedicate herself fully to art once again and she herself gets an opportunity to gush and gloat over her prestiguous step on her way to become a relatively penniless lawyer fighting the good fight.

Alice and Tasha disappear from the couch to tackle the dance floor as soon as their glasses are drained. 

Shane's fingers still, having kept drawing senseless patterns on the armrest over the course of the conversation.

_I'll go catch up with them. See ya later._

Molly hesitates, but seeing Bette's laugh and the way Tina keeps whispering in her partner's ear, she decides to follow only to get matching looks of confusion when she asks after her.

 _Maybe she's in the bathroom?_ Tasha suggests.

Most of all, Molly wants to clear her head for the moment and pushes through the crowd to exit the club at the back, greeted by a dimly lit alley. It's a dead end, garbage containers overflowing with plastic bags stacked up against a wall a fair distance from the door in front of which she stops.

_Hey._

Against the flickering light of the street lamp, Shane's hair sticks up around her head like the antithesis of a halo and Molly watches the reverse path the smoke from her cigarette makes, all the way from the stars to her lips. She turns her gaze away.

_Ah, fuck, you've caught me._

_What?_

She snorts, scratching the back of her neck, half-leaning against the brick wall as she exhales.  _I've been trying to quit smoking._

Molly grins.  _I swear I won't tell on you._

Shane laughs, taking another drag. The tip glows for a second, hot and bright one second, grey and cold the next as the smoke clears and her face becomes visible again.  _Thanks._

She steps away from the door and rests her left shoulder against the wall, facing her. Her eyes meet Shane's as the cigarette shrinks before her eyes to be reduced to a speck of dust under her sneakers.

Shane takes out her lighter, playing with the flame, holding it up against her palm, by all means surrounded by an aura of utter carelessness and she is so, so stunning.

Molly takes a step forward, gripping Shane's wrist with one hand while carefully taking hold of the lighter and slipping it into her own pocket. She catches a strand of her brown, spiky hair between her fingers as it curls against her collarbone and wraps it around her finger.

The intensity of Shane's eyes on hers could light a furnace, her back fully against the wall and watching her with an expression she cannot quite decipher.

Molly kisses her and she might as well have lit herself on fire with the lighter and not have cared.

Shane's hands are on her waist, pulling her closer, closer, closer.

She is feeling light-headed from the wet kisses against her neck, her shoulder, her collarbone and suddenly there are the sharp, hard edges of bricks drilling into her legs and shoulders that her dress had left exposed and Shane is the one pinning her to the wall.

She can feel her grin against the skin between her breasts, the cool night air another caress against her naked flesh. A fleeting thought passes through the back of her mind that she had not believed the fabric at the neckline to be as flexible as it had proven to be and that the one time she had caught Richard having a smoke she would not go near him until he had swallowed breath mints, but they are chased away by the half-remembered sensation of lithe fingers on her upper thigh creeping under the hem of her dress. She shivers.

Her right hand tangles in Shane's hair, she pulls her towards her until she feels a hint of teeth against her lower lip and is thankful for the stability of the bricks behind her.

Her hand has reached her waist, tracing the outline of her tights and Molly is quick to help her rip them off. A moan escapes her against Shane's open mouth.

Her heart is beating hard, her breathing shallow and Shane's hand is between her legs and her head falls back against the wall in ecstasy and-

_Hey, are you gu- whoa!_

Molly's blood runs cold, her muscles not responding when she tries to will them to shut her half-open mouth. A glance to the side greets her with the sight of Alice, her face frozen in momentary shock while Tasha's chest is shaking in silent, mirthful laughter. 

Shane very, very slowly removes her hand from under her dress, leaving the other hand firmly on Molly's lower back with a nonchalance that idly makes her wonder just how many times she had been caught in racier variations of this situation for her to have the calm to kiss Molly on the cheek and murmur a lazy  _Hmmm?_ in Alice's general direction, resting her forehead against her own.

Alice cracks up with laughter.

Tasha reveals a glass of water in her hand, lapping up the rest of the clear liquid.  _Well, I see you two are_ definitely _on good terms again._

Molly steps away from the wall, half returning the gesture of wrapping an arm around Shane's waist to keep herself steady on her feet and half because she really wants to.  _Let's go back inside?_

Alice is still giggling in fits, but she nods and puts an arm around Shane's shoulder, lightly ruffling her hair in the process. Tasha rolls her eyes, but she can clearly hear her say,  _You're so cute._

With Tasha joining the human chain by taking Alice's hand, the four of them make an interesting picture when they return to Bette and Tina at the lounge, who had been joined by Kit in the meantime, who had just been saying how Helena was meeting Dylan's parents when she spotted them.

_What have you been up to?_

Alice bursts out laughing while Shane grins and looks at Molly in a way that has her feeling dizzy all over again.

Tina snorts.  _Don't tell me you interrupted them hooking up?_

A silence stretches out over the moment as Shane presses a kiss against Molly's shoulder.

Kit's eyes widen as Bette shows an amused lack of interest in the common decency to appear surprised.

* * *

_Your mother will_ kill  _me if she sees me here._

_Screw her._

Shane's hand in hers as they ascend the stairs prompts a wave of déjà-vû, minus a wine bottle, a candle stick and a nigh crippling insecurity badly masked by an unstoppable wordflow. The excitement remains, her nerves electrified.

She hears her laughter and plucks it from her lips, her hand steady against the wall as it rests next to her head. Shane lets herself be cornered for once, her hands trailing languid paths up and down Molly's back.

This time, there are no candles to greet them in the room and the door is shut. No surprise visitors wanted.

Molly stumbles on her way to the bed, having to brace herself against her nightstand to keep her balance. The alcohol in her system is only adding to the giddiness.

She watches as Shane sits down on the edge of the bed before letting her upper body fall back on the mattress and closing her eyes.

Molly grins, brushing hair from her forehead, and puts a finger to her lips.

_Shh._

_Wha-_

She catches on when Molly's hands move first under her shirt to pull it over her head, then towards her zipper, and finally finding a way to her breasts as her mouth replaces the fingers between her thighs.

In the morning, Shane tells her that maybe her ostentatiously bringing a tome of Proust to the breakfast table specifically to piss off Phyllis would not be the best idea.

Molly shrugs and kisses the hollow of her throat.  _Probably._

Her mother's face turns out to be hilarious enough on its own to almost, almost make up for the months she spent feeling drained. 

_What is she doing here?_

_What does it look like? Don't you usually offer our guests breakfast, or at least coffee?_

Shane keeps quiet, her hands buried in her pockets, but she thinks she sees an instance of regret flash upon her face of leaving Proust behind.

  _I- yes, but- Molly, you have a girlfriend! You should know better._

This specific facet of anger is an unwanted acquaintance, but one she has intimate knowledge of, either way.

_No, I don't. We broke up. Except, you know what? You're absolutely right, I do have a girlfriend. And you owe her an apology and the best goddamn breakfast you've ever had prepared._

Her mother's face turns beet red, but she gets up and turns on the coffee machine, turning around to face Shane. She takes a deep breath.

 _Shane. I'm sorry for what I said to you. I regret it very much. I thought I was doing what was best for my daughter. I only wanted to spare her unnecessary pain, but-_ She swallows, wringing her hands.  _I saw how miserable she was, which was not something I ever planned on causing. I was wrong and as long as you make Molly happy, it doesn't matter what you may have done in the past._ She sighs.  _I should know._

Shane eyes her for a moment in contemplation, before the corner of her mouth twitches into a half-smile.  _Alright, Phyllis._

The espresso they are served is quality stuff, as Molly later finds out when she tastes it on Shane's tongue. 

 


End file.
